Lee Jordan & The Opinionated Professor Who Drank Too Much Firewhiskey
by Mr. Cobrah Thunderer
Summary: The year is 2005, The Holyhead Harpies are going against The Tutshill Tornadoes for The Quidditch Cup. But more importantly, the ever-underrated Lee "River" Jordan (former Quidditch Commentator for Hogwarts, buddy of The Weasley Twins & hero of Dumbledore's Army) is back to spread his awesomely biased, brutally honest, and hilarious commentary to the rest of the world.


**May, 2005: The 331st Annual Quidditch League Cup**

Despite the roar of the crowd, the well-known voice of radio personality and business entrepreneur Lee Jordan was still echoing throughout The Stadium, adding his own little comments in addition to genuine information about the goings-on of the match.

"Patterson gets The Quaffle - Flynn-Ibser lunges - SCORE! - The game as I'm giving it to you is five-hundred and sixty to five-hundred and seventy by my count, Harpies favored. Look at Patterson, she's pumping that fist into the air like a boss! Boy, her rainbow hair-."

Lee continued on, pretending that his old Head of House wasn't bellowing at him from the other side of the stadium to "STICK TO THE FACTS, JORDAN!"

"-represents her personality to a tee. You'd never think she was a substitute by the way she plays, what a sport! How's the weather up there, Patterson?"

Patterson grinned and gave a friendly thumbs-up in Lee's direction. She then began to show off a bit, by doing twirls throughout the air and high-fiving Pope and Rabin, her fellow Chasers, making the crowd go wild.

"What a team, what a match, what a sport! Say, who's that in the stands? Why, it's old Ludo Bagman! I didn't know he was allowed back in the country."

A whisper moved throughout the crowd as Bagman gave a little wave in their direction, a sheepish grin on his face.

"True fans may remember Ludo Bagman as Beater for The Wimbourne Wasps for fourteen years and The English National Team on several occasions, as well as his ten-year tenure as Head of Department of Magical Games and Sports from 1985-1995. Personally, I'd call him a lying skeeze who swindled my old man and best mates out of their life savings and ran for it when he bit off more than he could chew, but that's just my experience."

The color of embarrassment that flooded Bagman's face actually fit quite well with his garish yellow and black robes.

"Yup, pulled a reeeeeaaaaaaaalllllllllllllllllllllll Gilderoy Lockhart, that one. He was my hero at one point, made me want to be a Quidditch Announcer when I grew up, y'know. It's really messed up, but don't worry, you can hear all about it in my new-"

But before Lee could plug his bestselling autobiography, The Harpies' Keeper, Hudson, yelled out Patterson's name and pointed behind her. The crowd gasped as two Rogue Bludgers went hurtling towards Patterson, whose expression changed from a triumphant grin to a comical, over-exaggerated look of horror as she made her broom zoom towards the goalposts on her side. One of The Harpies' Beaters managed to knock one away with her Beater's Bat but the other Bludger knocked Patterson in the small of her back, knocking the wind out of her.

"OUCH! That's gotta hurt. Tran is checking to see if her teammate is oka-POTTER'S SEEN THE SNITCH! CHANG IN PURSUIT!"

And the focus was now on the respective teams' Seekers, Potter and Chang. Upon seeing Potter soaring down towards the field, Chang wasted no time catching up, and was now neck-in-neck with Potter, but it was too late. Potter had caught Patterson's glasses.

"THE HARPIES WI-Oh, sorry about that folks, Patterson's glasses fell off after she was hit with that Bludger and Potter fetched them for her. My mistake! Boy, my face hasn't been this red since I accidently drank my old Transfiguration Teacher's lemonade by accident! Patterson's giving another thumbs up-she's okay-"

Then all of the sudden there was a burst of static as the microphone was wrenched from Jordan's hands and a booming the voice of an elderly Scottish woman suddenly took over Lee's role as announcer.

"IT WASN'T AN ACCIDENT, JORDAN!"

"Love you too, Professor!" Lee laughed off, and there was a noticeable bump as the base of the microphone hit his sports desk. "Now if you'll just-"

"That lemonade, for your information, was one I specifically put a freezing charm on so it would be fresh and the perfect drink on a boiling summer's day. Then YOU asked if you could have a sip, thinking you an honorable young man I agreed, and then BOOM you chugged all of it like it was nothing (likely because your word means nothing) and complained to ME about giving you brain freeze as if it were my fault rather than yours! It was from that moment on I just knew you were the same kind of roguish rapscallion that wouldn't hesitate to steal from an old woman with a smile on their-"

"Expelliarmus!"

"How dare y-OOMPH!"

In the middle of her rant, shaking his head vehemently in denial as he did, Lee had fished his wand out of his pocket, disarmed the microphone out of McGonagall's hand and shoved the seventy year-old woman with far more force than was necessary out of the top box.

"Sorry about that, folks, heh-heh, she's very old - doesn't know what she's saying - security, where are you guys-"

"OH, YES I DO!" McGonagall interrupted.

The Quidditch Players continued to play, awkwardly attempting to ignore the increasingly heated argument between the former teacher and student.

"You said, and I quote, you weren't even sorry it happened, because the lemonade I made was just that good! How am I supposed to forgive someone who talks like that!"

"Gee, I dunno, because I was eleven and it happened like FIFTEEN YEARS AGO?"

"And you haven't learned anything! I can't believe I allowed you such leeway when you were commentating, I blame myself for not being more restrictive-"

"More restrictive? HA! That's a laugh! You see, I just had to emphasize that because you wouldn't know what funny was if it knocked off your dusty hat from the fifteenth century! I was having a great time with the audience, telling it like it was, Angelina Johnson shot me down so many times, Gryffindor is great, Slytherin sucks, and _Firebolts_ are the best broom ever made!"

It was then Jordan flashed his most winning smile at the crowd and said in his most jaunty, winning voice;

"That reminds me, coming out this November, _The Firebolt_ as you've never seen her before! THE F-I-R-E-B-O-L-T - TWO - POINT - OH! Hey!"

McGonagall had snatched back the microphone

"JORDAN! ARE YOU BEING PAID TO ADVERTISE FIREBOLTS?"

Jordan snatched it back.

"YES! THAT'S MY JOB NOW, YA GREEN-ROBED PSYCHO!" He bellowed. "What do you have against _Firebolts_ , which can still go at one hundred and fifty miles an hour and take punishment like no one's business, in stores now?"

It was then McGonagall's tone suddenly turned dangerously calm.

"Have a biscuit, Mr. Jordan."

"Huh?"

Lee wasn't expecting that, but from what he remembered of his old teacher he knew that biscuits were never a good sign as far as she was concerned.

"Why?" he asked cautiously, taking one from the tin and spreading marmalade over it.

"Oh, I just thought you could put a use to your mouth besides spouting all of that childish nonsense."

The two stared at each other for about five seconds and burst out laughing, tears of mirth going down her face.

"Oh, this was fun, Jordan, I missed this," McGonagall hiccoughed.

"We must have looked so stupid!" Lee chuckled. "Oh my lord, I'm probably going to lose my job because of this."

At this an Eagle Owl swooped in with a letter, which Lee opened using his wand, perplexed at the speed of the delivery.

"Well, that was fast. You're great, Owl dude, here's tickets to Celestina Warbeck on me. Right, _Dear Mr. Jordan, you are not going to lose your job_ ," he read aloud. " _People are tuning in all around the country via radio to whatever the_ _heck is going on here. Ask if she's available to co-commentate next season. Hoping you are well, Mafalda Hopkirk._ Merlin's Beard, you guys! Guess where there's drama there's still Galleons to be made… Sorry for drinking your lemonade and all the other stupid stuff I did, Professor."

"Sorry for, well, whatever situation I have created between us just now. I knew I should've stopped at one Firewhiskey, but Hagrid bought so many and I really, really want the Harpies to win...I am *hic* proud of what you've done in and out of school, you know."

"Fantastic, Professor, you're great. You won't take my mic again, will you?" He added suspiciously.

"Only if I want a proper dissection of the game that bores me to tears." McGonagall responded curtly.

Patterson, who was able to get her shoulder fully healed in between the impromptu fight as well as buy herself and her teammates a box of acid pops for after the game, flew up to the booth on her _Firebolt_ and cleared her throat.

"Uh, just wanted to let you guys know both teams scored sixty points each. Is whatever this is done?"

"Yeah, it is. Thanks for keeping me posted, Patterson, you're great! Have a cinnamon roll on me." Lee piped up, handing over a slip that said _I.O.U One Cinnamon Roll_. Patterson took the slip eagerly and went back to her showboating. All was forgiven as far as she was concened.

"Right. Sorry about that mates, turns out your boy Lee has some issues he needed to work through some weird issues that he didn't know existed until just a few minutes ago, but everything's better now, I promise I'll try not to make outlandish statements - CHANG SEES THE SNITCH! POTTER IN PURSUIT! You know, let me tell you a story about me and Potter..."

The crowd's attention was immediately turned back to the match. Chang Vs. Potter, renewing their old rivalry of Ravenclaw Vs. Gryffindor at last, mixed in with a bad history of teenage hormones. But no matter who won the match, they would always remember that very uncomfortable and personal tangent that was a bizarre as it was strangely moving between an opinionated teacher and loudmouth student turned equals at last.

"JORDAN, I FAIL TO SEE HOW YOU CAN JUSTIFY TAKING YOUR PANTS OFF FOR ANY REASON!"

"But Professor, I have a good reason-"

"NO, IT ISN'T!"


End file.
